The Bad Blogger

So, no blog entries since 8th December.

This is due to:
a. Fuck all happens
b. Life
c. An excellent young forum of nice clever people: Come play with us.
d. French stuff that was novel and amazing 5 years ago has now become routine. I need to rediscover some innocence and a sense of wonder.

My apologies for all those who clicked and saw the same page week after week.

Stuff I have failed to blog on and will try and catch up:
New Years Eve at the salle des fetes
Comic Book festival at Angouleme
The Tile Factory rocked by the financial crisis

Yesterday I finally got the bike out and cycled to work. 3:00am and -4C degrees! Yow! Worse than the cold was my utter lack of fitness and wobbly legs. I'm in lycra & jacket right now about to jump on the bike to go to the midday shift (+5C degrees).

On the scales I am 87kilos (192lbs) Who ate all the pies? That puts me 20lbs overweight. Fuck, that's a lot of cycling and lettuce.

100 kilometers

It's good to be back on the bike again.

I've been cycling to work the last few weeks, morning shifts, night shifts, rain or shine. It's encouraging te see the fitness coming back. My poor old bike had the same tyres on I used for PBP in 2003.

Looking around locally for a club to join I found a cyclotouring club in Exideuil, not too far away. I phoned the club president for info on joining and he told me they were organising a 100k ride on Sunday 6th July. Great, I thought, I'll do it.

The distance was no problem, I've done dozens of 100ks and longer, and only the weekebd before I'd ridden 65 with a friend.

No, the real challenge was that Sunday 6th was the last of my night shifts. I would be getting to bed at 4:30am and waking up again at 6:30am to get to Exideuil for a 7:30 start.

100k on the back of an 8 hour shift and 2 hours sleep was a little more daunting. i decided to go straight to the start from work and sleep in the car. Less comfortable, but a benefit of more time asleep.
I parked under the trees in the salle de fêtes car park. It started raining during the night and the big drops falling onto the roof of the car were incorporated into my weird dreams. I woke up at 6:50, before my mobile phone's alarm had gone off.
People were about, and there was coffee and cake at the little clubhouse. I paid my 4 Euros entry fee and was given a map of the route.
The weather was miserable and drizzly. I didn't want to ride alone so I hopped on the bike and follwed some riders out onto the road. I decided not to wear a rain jacket. Even though they are light, I sweat so much in them I get just as wet as I would in the rain. I kept arm warmers on.
At about 20k I found myself in the company of two geezers from the Exideuil club. they were stronger than me so I tucked in behind them and drafted selfishly. At 40k there was a rest stop - sandwiches, cake, juice, wine (wine?) and toilets. My feet were freezing and the rain hadn't let up.
I introduced myself to my two "team-mates" and apologised for not helping. They were an excellent pair of old boys, early 60s I guess. That's something in common with the long distance riding in the UK, it's a sport for the "mature"
Talking amongst ourselves as we rode, the miles flew by. There were a couple of monster climbs, and we came in to the finish in under 4 hours. That's an average of 25kph which I'm quite pleased with.
Proof:


the club has regular rides Wednesday mornings. My next shift doesn't start till Thursday morning, and the weather report looks good for tomorrow ....

Night riding - deserves a quiet night

When I can get my act together, I like cycling to work, it helps me keep fit, and saves money on petrol. It's not far from our house to the factory: 14 kilometres, a couple of big hills, but a great ride. If it was any longer I'd be too shagged to work a shift, and any shorter it wouldn't be doing me any good.
So why is it so hard to get my arse in the saddle?
The shift hours. Today was a morning shift. The shift starts at 4:00am. So to get to work with enough time to change and have a cup of coffee, I need to leave home at 3:00am. So I have to wake up at 2:45.
That's an infirnal time to wake up, and I'd much rather get in the car and drive to work with the heater on, listening to the radio.
The hard part is getting on the bike and getting started. Once I'm on the road it's very pleasant. So I get all the kit ready the evening before and have it all waiting by the bed. No excuses.
This morning wasn't as cold as it has been. We've had frost the last few days, but last night it rained, and the cloud cover stopped any autumn warmth from disappearing. I didn't know it had rained, because I was in bed by 7:00pm, exhausted from the previous morning shift. I didn't even have dinner, I was too knackered. It was only when I pushed the bike out of the gate and saw the wet road that I realised it had rained.
Fiona had put some of the fried chicken I'd missed in a tuppaware for me. My saddlebag had the tuppaware, wallet, & phone. It's a big canvas Carradice bag I used on the PBP ride back in 2003. It has a quick release attachment to the seat post, and also has permanently packed: a pump; a folding tyre; an innertube and tools.
It is very eerie cycling at 3:30 in the morning. It's dark, and very quiet. I take the back roads, past farms and hamlets and there is no traffic. Because it is autumn, the roads are covered in fallen leaves. The tyres going over the leaves make a distinctive noise that is difficult to describe. They are crisp, and yet wet and the noise is a gentle "shooshing" and crackling. The air was cold on my face, but I was warm because I have a good gortex jacket, heavy bibtights and cleat winter boots. As I sttod up on the pedals to climb the switchback hill past Genouillac I thought to myself that this was the kind of experience that no one else could share, I felt very solitary and alone, but it was OK, it wasn't a lonely feeling, just me and the bike, the noise of the tyres, the headlight throwing weird shadows on the road and the ditches, the sound of the wind in the trees, and sometimes the snort and snuffle of unseen cattle in the field.
I thought the ride back at midday would be warmer and I packed the jacket in the bag. In fact it was about the same temperature, but because I could see where I was going (unlike in the dark, in spite of my excellent dynamo hub and halogen light) I could ride faster, and thus get warmer. I was passed by a heavy transporter carrying a digger. It could only do 40kph so I sprinted up to its speed and coasted along, slipstreaming at 40kph hardly pedalling. Luxury.

In honour of the title - here's Michael Stipe and Mike Mills performing "NightSwimming" live on Jools Holland. mmm - nice